


inch off the ground

by sssammich



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Date, Gen, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6555016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssammich/pseuds/sssammich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy volunteers Clarke in a charity speed dating event. Clarke turns it into an adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	inch off the ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dealan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dealan/gifts).



> Original prompt from Kay: literary speed dating.
> 
> And I ran with it. Like really ran with it. Almost away from it. 
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading!

 

**+++**

 

 

It starts with a ticket.

Well. Let’s backtrack a little. It actually starts with a small basket of baked goods that Clarke finds on the kitchen counter. That happens to have an envelope beside it with her name on it.

She takes no time rifling through the assorted baked treats before she even bothers with the letter.

Settling on a still warm chocolate croissant, she plucks out the contents of the envelope and rests it on the counter. The first thing she sees is a perforated slip of cardstock paper:

 

 

> **_What: Annual Literary Speed Dating Event for Women Who Love Women_ **
> 
> **_Who: Arkadia Public Library and the City of Light Organization_ **
> 
> **_Where: Arkadia Public Library - Main_ **
> 
> **_When: 6 PM February 26, 2016 Why: The Trevor Project Fundraiser_ **
> 
> **_Don’t forget to bring your favorite books to the event!_ **

 

“What the-”

Beneath the ticket is a note with Bellamy’s characteristic chicken scratch.

 

_It’s for charity. So don’t skip it. I mean it. - B_

 

“Muh mee muh,” she says, mocking the last of his message to her, with a mouthful of croissant while imagining his stupid face. He’s a fucking ‘B’ all right.

She inspects the chocolate croissant in her hand and reconsiders eating it at all. The pile of baked goods feels tainted now that she knows it’s just bait for this event because she just can’t resist the buttery and flaky goodness.

She takes a giant bite with a frown on her face. Fuck it.

She’s still going to eat every single one of them.

Out of spite.

But she’s going to grimace the entire time with each chew. She stuffs the note and the ticket back in the envelope and hauls the bread basket back to her room to marathon the seventh season of _Person of Interest_.

She’ll deal with this shit later. But for now, it’s time to binge on television and annihilate this basket.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

Four episodes in, she hears the front door open and shut with a small thud. She hears the creak of their wooden floors as Bellamy makes his way down the hall. She stills on her bed and pays careful attention to his every move.

He stops somewhere just outside of her room.

“I see you got my note,” he half-yells through the door. She senses a tinge of amusement in his voice and she scowls.

Bellamy opens the door with a kind smile on his face which is a little infuriating. “Aw, Griff. You’re not mad, are you?” He asks by way of greeting. He makes his way to her bed and plops down across the bed on his side, his head of overgrown wavy hair resting on his hand.

She doesn’t say anything, just tosses the empty basket at his face.

His annoyingly fast reflexes stops the basket from hitting his face, but only barely.

“Speed dating? Am I that pathetic? Who do you take me for, my mother?!”

Bellamy snorts. “Abigail Griffin, you are not. Look, I just think that you should try it out; you might end up having a good time.”

“Man, if you’ve got shit to say—”

“I just want you to try something out. It’s one Friday night. For charity. That’s all it is.”

Clarke frowns. She knows that he means well, but she can’t help but feel slightly put off for feeling like _she’s_ the charity.

Clarke picks up the handle of the basket and swings it at Bellamy but he pushes it aside with ease and Clarke groans. “Ugh, you’re such a dick in a sock.”

She barely gets a couple more swings in before her spiteful gluttony catches up to her. She takes a deep breath and falls back onto the headboard. She narrows her eyes at him. Maybe it was his plan all along to make her full of carbs before approaching her so she can’t fight back. It’s genius, if she thinks about it, but she’d never admit it to his face.

“Jeeze, Clarke. Do you have to be so violent?” he teases.

She grumbles.

“So you’ll go?” he asks when he lays back down by the foot of the bed.

“ _Only_ because it’s for charity,” she says with grudging defeat. “And _not_ because you made me. I’m here to do good for the people.”

He grins in triumph. “All right, Griffy. I’ll leave you to your-” he pauses and looks around to find _Person of Interest_ playing on the tv behind him. “That.”

He pushes himself off the bed and lands on his feet. He gives her cheek one last pat before walking away. She listens to him make his creaky way down the hall and into his room. When she can no longer hear him move around, she lets out a deep sigh.

She pulls the envelope from her bedside table and takes a look at the ticket again.

It’s undeniably a speed dating event ticket.

Of all the lame things to get volunteered to do.

Of all people to volunteer her. She’s surprised it wasn’t her mother first who suggested the idea. But then again, her mother could have gotten him to do it for her. But she wouldn’t that to her, would she? She wouldn’t dare. And to get Bellamy to join forces? That just seems wrong.

She rubs her face and clears her head of any kind of conspiracy theories there may be as to why she is now slated to go on a speed dating event next week. Whatever. She puts the ticket back in the envelope and the envelope in the drawer. It’s not for another week, so she’ll worry about this shit when it’s much closer. For now, she returns her focus back to the episode and starts it over.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

Octavia, Bellamy’s baby sister (who is actually pretty freakin’ hot, especially when she snaps at her brother, and who Clarke would totally be DTF with if she wasn’t so completely off limits), is over at their apartment the following Tuesday when Clarke comes back for lunch. Octavia stops by sometimes ever since Bellamy gave her an extra key for emergencies. It’s never been an emergency, of course, but Clarke doesn’t mind. Especially because Octavia brings random groceries a lot of the time that Clarke really sees no reason to complain because, hello, free food. Who doesn’t love free food?

“The Better Blake,” she announces more to herself than anything when she sees Octavia sitting on the couch flipping through Netflix.

“Hey,” Octavia says with a smile on her face. “You’re home early.”

“Just stopping by for lunch.”

“Perfect timing! There’s some pizza on the counter.”

Clarke’s face brightens. Free food strikes again! “That’s music to my ears, O.”

She pulls the box lid open and slides a couple of slices on a plate before nuking it in the microwave. She stops by the fridge and pulls out...coconut water! Courtesy of Octavia Blake, the clearly superior Blake almost 99% of the time.

She plops down beside Octavia on the couch. “Thank you for lunch,” she says just before taking a bite.

“No problem. I just bombed the shittiest exam about an hour ago; I needed to feel better about my life. I mean, what shitty ass professor gives an exam on a Monday?”

“Let me guess: is it that bald-headed professor who always waxes poetic about random shit? Peek or Pike or something?”

Octavia groans her assent.

“Well,” she starts mid-chew, “the super important thing to remember about college, young padawan, is that after you graduate, none of it matters.”

“Uplifting.”

“That’s me.”

They settle into an episode of _Fuller House_ before Octavia turns to her.

“I hear Bell volunteered you for that speed dating event.”

Clarke groans. “Unless you can get me out of it, I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“I think it’ll be good for you.”

She stops mid-chew. She faces Octavia. “I just said—”

Octavia waves her hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah. All I’m saying,” clearly undeterred by the glares that Clarke is sending her way. “Maybe he’s right. If you give it a shot, you might be surprised.”

She stares at Octavia for a moment, wondering what the hell is going on that she’s even siding with her brother. To even go so far as Octavia admitting that Bellamy Ulysses Blake was right about Clarke’s love life is utterly baffling. And to be perfectly frank, this is _not_ the kind of tag-teaming Clarke had in mind when it came to the Blake siblings.

"What's the big deal about this speed dating thing anyway? I mean why are we partnering off? Noah's Ark in short supply or something?”

Octavia laughs. “Look, you know, we wholeheartedly support whatever you wanna do with your life-”

“Doubt it.”

“But don’t you think it’s time to try something a little different?”

Clarke puts her pizza back on her plate and wipes her hands. The pizza and coconut water seem tainted now, with the same kind of good intentions that Bellamy had last week when he first gave her the ticket. And a damn shame too considering the feta cheese and artichokes on the pizza actually tasted spectacular.

“What kind of weird intervention is this? First it’s Bell and now you.”

Octavia faces her body towards Clarke and shrugs. “I mean if that’s what you wanna call it, I guess we can call it an intervention. Also, don’t do drugs.”

Clarke frowns.

“Why is it even so important to any of you if I go on a date or not?”

Octavia scoffs and Clarke has half a mind to shove her. “For your information, I don’t actually care about your love life all that much. But what I do care about is how you are. And you’re not fine, Clarke. I mean, it’s gonna be a year next month since…well, you know. But at some point, you have to do something else or you’re gonna rot. And I know how you smell when you don’t shower for a week.”

Clarke scowls at her and shoves her anyway. “Whatever. I know you two idiots mean well, but I said it before that it’s gonna be on my own time. And whether it’s gonna be a year or not, it doesn’t really matter. Because it’s up to me.”

“You’re right. But give this thing a chance if literally for no other reason than to take a shower,” Octavia says finally.

Clarke remains silent, mildly offended about the showering thing (because it was literally one time and it’s not her fault that she forgot to pay the water bill), but focused more on what Octavia’s said to her. She’s not gonna give Octavia the satisfaction that maybe she’s right (and that’s a big ass _maybe_ ) but Clarke’s going to maybe consider what she’s said.

The rest of her lunch break at home passes without incident and she finally bids her adieu to Octavia. She returns to work on autopilot, her mind elsewhere.

It’s not that she’s morally opposed to the idea of speed dating, per se, but does she even have the energy for a relationship? Would she even be any fun to hang out with in the romantic sense? How can she even explain the last year of her life? Sorry, been living life in constant mourning for the last 365 days but hey, pass the nachos? Hell, the last time she was in any kind of somewhat serious relationship was in college four years ago. And that was more like a semi-serious version of Friends With Benefits in that they were exclusively benefiting from each other and no one else, and sometimes free movie or free food. The sex was pretty good, though. But she doubts that’s what her friends are referring to.

Now she’s getting ambushed to join speed dating events for the sake of charity instead of getting ambushed with secret dating app profiles they’ve made on her behalf like regular friends would. Whatever.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

The rest of the week is completely unremarkable, the same routine passing by without so much as a hitch or hiccup. If anything, it’s gone by quite well — almost too well.

She hasn’t missed a single train at all this week. People have even offered their seats to her a couple of times. She’d gotten the last of the raspberry scones yesterday when even though she knows that they’re usually gone after the first morning rush at the coffee shop. Her food’s been free practically all week considering that between Bellamy, Octavia, and now Gina, food is just rolling through her apartment and into her mouth.

She’s not complaining, because why ruin a good thing?

Except whatever good week she was having ends today. Well, ends this morning.

At 6:03 AM.

An entire hour before she even has to be awake.

Which is by far the most inconvenient thing since she knows she checked the time sometime around three o’clock this morning. She’s tempted to go back to bed, but she knows herself all too well. At this point, if she shuts her eyes for even one minute, when she opens them back up again it’ll be noon.

When she opens her door, she’s already greeted by the smell of coffee and someone walking past her.

“Hey, Clarke!” She follows the voice and finds a mass of dark curly hair headed towards Bellamy’s room. Oh, right. Gina. She sure is awake for 6 AM.

“Hey,” she croaks before she continues her trek to the kitchen and discovers Bellamy standing at the counter and eating a bowl of Cheerios. “Morning.”

“Good morning, sleepyhead. You’re looking radiant first thing in the morning.”

She flicks him off as she pulls a mug from the cupboard.

His laughter causes some of the milk to dribble down his chin. “Hey, don’t forget that speed dating thing’s tonight.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Will that be all, mother?” She says with a fake British accent just as she pours herself a cup of coffee. “Do you need me to also polish your jewelry and press your dresses?”

It’s his turn to flick her off. “Do you have your books ready?”

She turns to face him with slight panic, his voice reminiscent of her mother constantly asking her back when she was in grade school. “What books?”

Bellamy puts his spoon down. “Don’t you remember?”

The expression on her face is enough to tell him all he needed to know.

“Jesus, Clarke. You know it’s a _literary_ event, right? Literary...literature. You have to bring books with you.”

“What the fu-you didn’t tell me this thing had _homework?!_ ”

“What? Didn’t you read the ticket?”

She flails her hands. “Clearly not very well. I haven’t read anything remotely close to a book since college. Shit, I don’t think I’ve even read anything longer than a buzzfeed list and half those things are just stolen gifs.”

“Relax,” he says as he claps a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got a bunch of the classics in my room, you can borrow them.”

Clarke scoffs. “Noooo, thanks. I’m not gonna bullshit my way through _The Illiad_. I’ll think of something. You can just keep your books to yourself. Like, forever.”

“Jackass.”

Just then, Gina returns from his room and joins them in the kitchen. “I’ve got books I can lend you if you’d like,” she offers. “It’s pretty varied; sci-fi, fantasy, romance.”

Clarke puts her hand up. “Super nice, but gonna pass. Thanks, though.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

Clarke smiles her thanks. How Bellamy landed a woman like her is beyond her scope of understanding of the world. But it’s better for him to upgrade to that than to...stay himself. So, everyone wins.

“Well, I’m off to press mother’s dresses and polish her jewelry,” she says, resuming her fake British accent as she makes her way out of the kitchen. “And then spend the rest of my time learning to read so I may be eligible to marry!”

When Clarke shuts the door to her room, the first thing she does is take a big gulp of her steaming hot coffee. Perhaps burning her taste buds will somehow ignite the rest of her senses to figure out what the fuck she’s going to do about tonight. It’s completely illogical, but if this is how the morning starts, she’s afraid of how the rest of the day will turn out.

But for now, she’s going to have to find some fucking books.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

Clarke rushes to the nearest Barnes & Noble during her lunch. She doesn’t remember ever going in there for books. Just for the free wifi and the Starbucks. So she’s looking a little lost when she starts to tackle the aisles.

Shit, what should she even get? She could just pick up the first book on display but this has to be something she can talk about. And she can’t just pick the books she remembers from school because how fucking boring is that? She spots _Gone Girl_ from one of the special sales displays and grabs a hold of it. She remembers reading it once upon a time but can’t remember anything because she watched the movie right after. It’s intense and shit, sure. But the movie was pretty good. So whatever, this will work.

She’s headed to line up and pay until she realizes that bringing just one book is actually tacky. She’d remedy this issue except for the simply and somewhat horrifying fact that she doesn’t even know where the hell to begin looking for another one. The most famous book she can come up with is _Harry Potter_ and truthfully, that sounds like a nightmare. Just the idea that people who read it are intense about their knowledge and can spot her as a complete and total poser. She barely remembers the movies let alone the books and Pottermore was of no real or valuable help considering she had to retake the test three times just to get sorted into Slytherin.

“Shit.” She groans in frustration but returns on her hunt. As she’s making her way through the aisles, she remembers reading in the 6th grade _Witches_ by Roald Dahl. She frowns at the idea of bringing a kid’s book, certainly a huge departure from _Gone Girl_ , but she remembered liking that book and even enjoying the movie. It’s clear desperation that’s driving her to seriously consider that book as an option. But with a quick glance at her phone and the small window of time left for her lunch, she just goes for it. Hell, she could even spin it into something good about a childhood memory or whatever. That’ll be charming enough.

Clarke finds the last copy on the shelf and thanks her lucky stars that it’s still there and no random kid around her is about to take it because she would fight a child if she had to.

She does her best not to dwell on the fact that this entire speed dating thing has yet to happen but it’s already caused her grief a dozen times over.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

She gets to the library twenty minutes early. It wasn’t her intention to do that at all, but her manager, Kane, had been all too generous about letting her leave work an hour early to get ready for the event. It took her no more than thirty minutes to get ready and she sat in her apartment twiddling her thumbs. She’d even considered cracking the books open so they didn’t look so new, but thought better of it and just wikipedia-ed the plots as quick refreshers.

Her first goal is getting to whatever kind of bar they have. It’s a dinky little table with rows of cups with water, lemonade, and sparkling cider. Not the open bar she was hoping for, but it’ll have to do.

She tucks herself between the bookshelves with a clear view of the front entrance so she can take a good look at all the women coming through. She half-wishes that there were both men and women at this event to double the pool, but then again, can she really handle twice the amount of forced human interaction right now? Probably not.

There are only a handful or so people around them and she desperately regrets not bringing a flask of rum with her for situations like this. When she glances down at her books, she fantasizes having cut out the inside to hide the flask within the pages. But thought how much work that would require and nixed the idea altogether. To be fair, it’s not really all that bad, the women that’s coming in all look nice and are probably nice people living ordinary lives. But as every passing second ticks by, she feels the room getting smaller and smaller.

Clarke’s almost ready to leave and just explain to Bellamy that it was a total dud until she sees Raven walk past her not twenty feet away as she sticks her nametag on her top.

“Fuck me, that’s Raven.” She shoots down the rest of her drink and tosses the cup in the trash on her way to ambush Raven.

“Boo!”

“Jesus Chri-what the hell!”

 She smirks in triumph when Raven jumps in surprise in front of her.

“Oh shit, is that Clarke Griffin? In the flesh? Finally out of hibernation?”

Clarke scoffs. “Unfortunately. Bellamy set me up for this. But the more important question here is what are _you_ doing here? They just let anybody in one of these things?”

Raven makes a stink face at her. “They let _you_ in.”

Clarke doesn’t even bother firing off a response, just shrugs.

Raven rolls her eyes. “Well, my friend Gina suggested it to me. It’s for charity.”

That point seems to get made a lot surrounding this event, almost as if an explanation for even participating at such a thing.

“Gina? Is that the same Gina that Bell is dating?”

Raven pauses. “Maybe? Shit, I don’t know. Probably.”

“Great,” she says. “We would get set up by a couple.”

“Eh, you'll be fine. Besides, if you don't find anybody here, then you're still on as backup wife #2 if I'm not married by 40.”

“Well, that’s a relief-wait, the fuck you mean number two? I’m only your second option? I thought we said we’d pick each other first!”

“You said it and just _assumed_ I said it back.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “So full of shit. Who’s number one, then?”

“Octavia,” she says matter-of-factly. “Then you. No offense, Clarke, but you’re not exactly wife material. You’re hot, though. If that’s any consolation.”

“I hope you use literally any of those lines on some of these women tonight. That'll really charm the panties off these women. It's certainly charmed off mine.”

Raven practically cackles in amusement much to Clarke’s annoyance. When her does laughter dies down, which Clarke thinks took entirely too long to happen, she glances at the books on the table beside them and reads the spines: _Why Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ and… She snorts her amusement when she sees the trademark blue train on the front cover.

“ _Thomas the Tank Engine_? Really?”

Raven scowls at her. “Excuse me, this is the original 1945 edition by the Reverend Wilbert Awdry from the Railway Series, alright? It contains the first four original stories. So this isn’t _just Thomas the Tank Engine_. Which is definitely better than…” Raven looks at the two books she’s carrying by her side. “ _Gone Girl_ and, fucking... _Witches_.”

She laughs with a shake of her head. She can’t even be mad that Raven takes full offense at her book choices. Or that she’s not even Raven’s first choice for backup wife. She’s just glad that she’s not doing this alone.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

The event starts and the crowd has been separated into two groups: one group rotates and the other group stays in their seats.

“You will be given seven minutes to chat with your partner until you hear this sound,” Becca, the event coordinator, illustrates by tapping on the call bell on the table in front of her.

“She’s kinda hot,” Raven comments before looking back at her.

“Well, if this turns out to be a complete waste, one of us can try to hook up with her.”

Raven smirks. “That sounds a lot like a challenge.”

“Let’s just say loser pays for brunch on Sunday.”

“You’re on.”

“But...bet’s off if one of us finds someone here.”

They bump fists to seal their bet and Clarke thinks: Finally! Something to turn this night around.

The pair of them end up as part of the rotating group where Raven reasons that with Clarke going ahead of her, she’ll look like a winning prize every time.

Clarke doesn’t feel remotely guilty when she puts her foot up just enough that it trips Raven on her way to the tables. When Raven gets her footing and shoots her glares, Clarke just shrugs with a triumphant grin. Worth it.

The first fifteen minutes goes by all right. Nothing to write home about or anything. She goes through a couple of tables and listens mostly to the women chat about themselves. She’s more than fine letting them talk and talk for their seven minutes together. Nobody really needs to know about her life, anyway. This is just for a good time.

When Clarke reaches on her fourth table, she stops mid-sit when she catches sight of the brunette woman across from her.

“I can’t imagine that to be comfortable,” the woman comments while giving her an odd look.

“What?”

“Your posture.”

Clarke blinks a couple of times before looking down and finding that she’s awkwardly squatting in the air. She plops down on the chair with a thud and tries not to wince when she feels her butt collide with the plastic seat.

She clears her throat and extends a hand. “Clarke.”

The woman smiles and takes her hand and shakes it once. “Lexa.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, momentarily forgets that talking are one of the things she does quite well, and just stares. The woman, Lexa, seems content not to say anything in return, just looks right back at her with mild amusement in her eyes.

“These are my books,” she finally offers. What the hell? Why does she sound like a prepubescent teen grasping at straws unable to form any coherent thought. She pushes her two books towards the center of the table for Lexa to see better. Lexa leans over, her wavy brunette hair that was tucked behind her ear coming loose and falling to the side of her face. Clarke wants to swipe it away, like in those cheesy rom-com movies, but thinks better of it. She’s not weird.

“ _Witches_ and _Gone Girl_. Interesting choices of literature.” Lexa pulls back before offering her two books right across from Clarke’s.

“ _The Art of War_ and _The Price of Salt_. Equally interesting choices of literature.”

Lexa smiles. “Thanks. Not what you would have expected, huh?”

Clarke shakes her head. “ _You’re_ not what I would have expected.”

Lexa blushes and Clarke can’t help but grin.

“So what made you pick these books?” Lexa asks.

Clarke clears her throat. “Well, _Gone Girl_ made me feel like if anybody ever crossed me, I could seek revenge like her. And, you know, _Witches_ was the first book I ever remembered getting an A on. It was the first book report I ever did by myself. I had to do one of those mobile diorama things. Now that I think about it, it probably looked so whacky and terrible but I drew the witches really well and my dad didn’t give in when I whined about not being able to finish it.”

She thinks about that diorama and how it’s still probably sitting in her mom’s basement collecting dust in a pile. She remembers her dad high-fiving her for getting that 97 on her book report when she came back from school. And how her parents treated her out to dinner at this — now closed — pizza place so they could celebrate.

“Clarke...are you OK?”

She blinks away the memory. “Wh-what about you — what made you bring those two?”

Clarke watches as Lexa takes a deep breath and shifts her gaze from her to the two books in front of her. “Well,” she begins, “there are certain rules in life that people ought to follow to be the best kind of person they can be. So that’s where _Art of War_ comes in. I don’t wanna micromanage my life or anything, but you know, it’s good to have some guidelines. Being prepared is a good thing. Or so I hear.”

Clarke nods having hung on to every word she’s said. “And what about _The Price of Salt?_ ”

Lexa grins before shrugging. “Vintage lesbians.”

Clarke’s face breaks into a smile and laughter erupts from deep within before Lexa joins her. The pair of them are bent over the edge of the table trying to lower the volume of their laughters as the other speed dating patrons look on in confusion and curiosity. She looks across her books to find Lexa’s head thrown back and her left hand covering her mouth, her wavy brunette hair splayed around her shoulders.

Clarke almost chokes on her laughter at the sight. Their small laughing fit lasts no more than a minute but Clarke’s belly aches and her face muscles are tight from trying to hold in her laughter.

“That was wonderful,” Lexa states. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

They don’t get to say anything else because Becca taps on the call bell to bring their seven minute session to a halt.

Clarke’s heart drops in her stomach when she sees Lexa slowly rise from her seat. She stands too until they’re looking at each other eye to eye.

Lexa extends her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Clarke.”

“You, too,” she sighs as she takes Lexa’s warm hand in hers.

Clarke doesn’t let go, even when Raven shows up beside her.

“Dude,” Raven half-whispers right by her ear, the both of them now looking at Lexa who is still donning a kind smile in front of them. “Move. Your time’s up.”

Clarke frowns when she has to finally let go of Lexa’s hand. She’s slow to move out the way as Raven occupies the space she was just in mere moments ago. Raven has just gotten situated and about to extend her hand when Clarke takes it instead yanks her out of the seat.

“Sidebar, Raven.”

“What? No.”

Clarke grits her teeth. “Come on.”

She offers an apologetic smile to Lexa.

“If you would just excuse me — we’ll just be a minute.” Clarke doesn’t wait for a response when she takes Raven by the arm a few feet away. “Look, I really dig this girl so I need you to give me your turn with her.”

Raven snorts. “You know that’s not how this thing works, right?”

“Yeah, but I wanna keep talking to her. Come on. Do this and I’ll still buy you brunch on Sunday. Bet or no bet.”

Raven’s brow raises. “Wait, you really like this girl?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean when I say give me your turn wit her,” Clarke says with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, just switch with me.”

The two of them look up when Becca rings the bell again for the start of the next session.

“Deal,” Raven says. “But the event coordinator is off limits.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The two of them break from their little sidebar conversation as Raven heads for the table meant for Clarke and Clarke back to Lexa’s table.

Lexa scrunches her face in confusion as her sights volley between Clarke and Raven. “Welcome back...Clarke?”

“It’s really good to be back. So please tell me more about these vintage lesbians. I mean unless you want me to switch back with Raven...who, by the way, has a showering problem. So, like...”

Lexa offers her a smile and shakes her head. “No, no. I quite like you where you are.”

Clarke grins. “Good. So, please, vintage lesbians.”

“Well, it’s a story about this 50s housewife from New Jersey named Carol Aird who meets a young shopgirl named Therese Belivet over the Christmas holiday before striking a relationship with each other.”

Clarke pushes herself on her elbows to lean closer as Lexa talks.

“These two women who are so isolated from everyone in different ways.”

Clarke’s eyes travel from the top of Lexa’s face with her smooth forehead and finely sculpted eyebrows down to her nose and finally to such pouty lips that Clarke imagines kissing in all sorts of ways.

“They lived in their own little paradise of each other as much as they could; the world be damned, you know?”

Clarke can’t get enough.

Lexa’s voice echoes in Clarke’s ears, a low timbre of her voice knocking against her bones. Lexa’s hands staying put by the edge of the table just by her books. Lexa’s hair falling out of its position behind her ears. Lexa’s laugh lines becoming more and more apparent whenever she blushes in embarrassment for gushing about the book.

She’d never really cared to read these kinds of books for no other reason than older books aren’t really her style, but the way Lexa describes it has Clarke wanting to get a library card. Hell, maybe even two.

“It’s rather lovely, the two of them with this undeniable chemistry, this electricity between them. Even from the start.”

“That sounds…” Clarke trails, unsure of how to finish her thought.

“Fascinating?” Lexa offers, but Clarke shakes her head.

“...Familiar.”

Lexa brightens up. “Oh? How do you figure that?”

Clarke pushes back onto the chair, an ease on her demeanor takes over. “Just the whole undeniable chemistry thing. The electricity and all that. It just feels familiar, don’t you think? At least from where I’m sitting.”

“I suppose you can say that. After all, my whole conversation with you tonight has been the one I’ve most enjoyed so far.

The call bell rings again and the women around them shuffle in and out of their seats, but they are slow to move. Clarke dares not to take her eyes away from looking at her even as Lexa glances to the side for the woman waiting to have her turn to speak with Lexa.

“Excuse me—”

“This seat’s already taken.” Clarke raises her brow slightly, daring the woman to do anything other than move on to the next one. The woman frowns but does as she’s told and sits herself at the next table.

“You didn’t need to intimidate that poor girl, Clarke. She’s just following the rules.”

“Who’s to say I’m intimidating her? It might very well be you who would intimidate her and _I’m_ sparing her.”

“Me? You think I’m intimidating? On what basis?”

Clarke shrugs with her hands out. “Let’s see: you’re so beyond beautiful that it’s hard holding eye contact with you. You’ve got a killer body based on what I’ve seen so far. And, to be perfectly honest, you are into vintage lesbians. Someone like that is just looking for trouble.”

“And here I thought I was looking for a date and a good book.”

“Eh. Same thing.”

They bask in comfortable silence amidst giggles here and there. Clarke can’t believe her luck; can’t believe she’d find a woman like Lexa in a place like this.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Clarke asks as she rises from her spot.

Lexa looks at her with confusion in her eyes. “But the session — it’s not over yet.”

Clarke shrugs before putting her hand on the back of her chair. “It’s pretty much over for me. I’ve already found trouble. What do you say?”

Lexa’s just about to open her mouth when Becca appears beside Clarke. “Is there a problem here, ladies?”

“Uh-” Clarke blanks for a second, trying to come up with an excuse. She wants Lexa to join her, but the creeping thought that she’s misread the whole situation is suddenly forming shape in her mind.

“No, not at all,” Lexa answers instead. Clarke turns to look at her. “But unfortunately, Clarke and I have to leave.”

Becca’s brows furrow. “The both of you? But the session is not even halfway over.”

“I know, but family emergencies unfortunately come first. I have to pick up my little nephew, Aden, from the babysitter as he is sick and my sister is still working at the hospital. And Clarke here just got a text from her—”

“Mother,” she offers weakly. “She’s fallen and...uh, can’t get up. She’s frail.”

“Your mother’s fallen and can’t get up? Really?” Clarke mutely nods her head. “You know we can’t refund your money for this event,” Becca comments still eyeing the pair of them with an air of suspicion.

“We understand. And to show that we understand and appreciate your flexibility, we will donate fifty dollars more to the cause...each.”

Clarke can’t decide which she feels more: the surprise of having to take fifty dollars out of pocket for ditching this event or just how turned on she is for Lexa taking over the situation.

She’s much, much more turned on. Even if that fifty bucks will sting. Charity or not.

Stunned into silence, Clarke can only sling her jacket over her shoulder.

“Say hi to Abby for me,” Raven says with a smirk having watched the whole thing with amusement. “I don’t remember her being so frail last time I saw her.” Clarke bumps Raven’s shoulder with her fist with a little bit more power than expected so that Raven squirms in her seat, massaging her bicep from the pain.

Lexa tucks all four of their books under her arm and nods for Clarke to take the lead. The rest of the crowd watch as the two of them go.

“That’s a surprise,” Clarke says as she pushes her arm into her jacket’s sleeve while the pair exit the building and head towards the metro. “Do you even have a little nephew? Or...shit, I don’t know, a sister? Or were they all lies?”

Lexa laughs. “Not all. I do have a sister and she _is_ working at Tondisi Hospital. But I don’t have a nephew. Aden’s fourteen and he’s my next door neighbor. And if anybody’s his babysitter, it’s me. I do have to pick him up from his friend’s house, though, just not until later. I’ve got a few hours.”

Clarke clicks her tongue. “Mm. Told you, you are trouble,” she says with a shake of her head. Lexa doesn’t respond, just walks ahead leaving Clarke behind. For her part, Clarke watches in amusement as Lexa looks both ways before crossing the street.

Clarke gives herself the five seconds to appreciate the view before jogging to catch up.

 

 

**+++**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title from Woodwork by Sleeping at Last. 
> 
> Super huge thanks to J, Faye, Becca, and Nice Jess 4 helping me come out of retirement. It's not like they actively knew, though. But I made them by asking them to read this.
> 
> I wrote this 50% for the Clexa fandom to do something nice and light and not angst since they've been through a lot and 50% for myself to start writing again. Thanks again.


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